But Not Him
by Herbology Apprentice
Summary: An odd girl, with no one, finds comfort in a fellow Gryffindor. Is it just kindness that draws him to her, or something more? Please review!


She couldn't help but think about him. She tried to tell herself not to, tried to think about something else, but it was no use. She knew he was out of her league. He was one of _them_. And what was she? Nothing. Just an outcast Gryffindor. She didn't fit in with her house mates. No one talked to her. they thought her strange and not worth their time.

But not him.

He talked to her every day. She knew he did it just to be nice, to show her that _somebody_ knew she was alive. So really, she couldn't help but fall in love with him. He was the first person to ever treat her like she belonged. Every morning she woke up, studying herself in the mirror as she got dressed. Her hair went half way down her back, black as night. It was the one thing she truly loved about herself. She used it as a shield, a cover when she wanted to go unnoticed. Her eyes were an icy blue, an almost shocking contrast with her hair. Her figure, well, it was alright she supposed. Nothing spectacular. Under different circumstances, she would have been considered beautiful. but what made her different, what made her classmates look at her in fear and disgust, was what covered half her face. It was why she loved her hair. It helped her hide her shame. Every morning she would pull her hair back, examining the thing that made her an outcast. The right side of her face was covered in a large scar. It gave her a demonic look. The skin pulled tight near her eye and large areas of scar tissue covered her cheek, the faded lines making her look misshapen. She would cover it back up, hiding behind her shield. No one ever asked her how she got it. They seemed too scared to ask her.

But he did.

One day, as she was walking back to the castle from Herbology, he caught up with her. They talked about class, about the weather. He seemed distracted. She eyed him through her curtain of hair, trying to see his face. He was looking at her as they walked, his eyes full of pity. She hated that look more than she hated the fear. "Willow," he spoke softly, slowing his pace. She turned his way, keeping her eyes to the ground. "What happened? How did you get …?" he trailed off. She looked up at him, his face full of pity and sadness. She was surprised that he even wanted to know. "Well, my father was an Auror for the Ministry. He fought against Voldemort and his followers during the last war. He put a lot of evil people in Azkaban, and their families weren't too happy with him. One fellow, who was the brother of a man he had convicted, came looking for him, wanting revenge. When he arrived at our house, my mother and I were the only ones there. He killed her. and me, well, he did this." She said, pointing to her face. "Since it was done with Dark Magic they couldn't do anything to heal it. That's it, pretty much." She whispered, gazing up at him. He looked at her, his eyes soft and warm. He reached out and put his arm around her, squeezing gently. Neither said anything as they walked to the castle, but it was then that Willow knew she loved him. But she wished it had never happened. At least before she had somewhat a friend. But now, what if he found out? It would scare him off and he wouldn't be her friend anymore. She watched sadly as her dorm mates got up and dressed, avoiding eye contact with her. Hermione was the only one that would smile at her, and not turn away in disgust, at least in front of her. She followed them down the stairs, her steps slow and deliberate, trying to put distance between them. She didn't know what she was going to do today. It was the weekend, which meant no classes to fill her day. She peered around the almost empty common room. She saw him sitting in a corner chair, his potions book in front of his face. She smiled slightly. She couldn't help it. Trying to look casual, she walked over to the chair in front of his and sat down. She took a small book from her pocket and pretended to read it, watching him. He was absorbed in the book, his brows knitted together. He bit his lip, looking confused. She watched him, a small smile playing at her lips. He leaned his head back against the back of the chair, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fore finger and thumb. She looked back down at her book quickly, afraid he would catch her staring at him. She chanced another peek, and saw he was staring at her, his eyes full of the same mix of pity and warmth. "Hey Willow," he greeted her, smiling softly. She held her head up a little and smiled brightly at him. "morning." She spoke quietly. He closed his book and scooted to the edge of his seat, rubbing his eyes. "I hate potions. I never can understand what Snape is talking about anymore." he said wearily. He looked back at her, his smile finding it 's way back to his lips. "So, what do you have planned for today? Are you going to Hogsmead with everyone else?" he asked, throwing his book into his bag. Willow blushed lightly. She never went to Hogsmead. It was bad enough being alone here, but she knew it would feel worse watching everyone else having fun, running around the small village with their friends while she sat alone, the subject of their stares and laughs. "Oh no. I'm just going to stay here today, try and catch up on some homework or something," she mumbled.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew she was lying. She was almost as smart as Hermione in classes. She never had homework, and if she did, it was done that same night. He knew cause he had watched her do it, every night, for the past two years. She blushed again. What was up with her? he thought. He smiled again. "Well, to be honest I don't really feel like going today either. I still have a three foot essay to finish for Snape, plus I still haven't read that book Flitwick assigned last week." He said sheepishly, earning a smile from her. She looked so pretty when she did it. He gazed at her for a moment, thinking. "If you want, we can study together. Maybe you could help me with that essay, too?" he asked, watching her face. She blushed even harder now, and looked down at the floor. "S-sure, if th-that's what you w-want." She stammered, not meeting his eyes. Something was definitely up. "Okay then. We'll meet up in the library around ten, okay?" he asked, wishing she would look at him. She slowly peered up, her eyes full of emotion. "Yeah. That sounds g-great." She whispered, smiling again. "Alright then." He whispered back, reaching out to squeeze her hand. He was about to ask her to breakfast when Harry and Ron came down from their dorm. "OI! Neville! Want to get some breakfast with us?" Ron shouted. Neville sighed. This happened every time. He looked back at her, his eyes apologetic. He knew she wouldn't come with him now, but he chanced it. "You want to come with us?" he asked her, but she shook her head before he even got it all out. "No, that's alright. I'm not very hungry right now." She said, looking back down at her book. He stood up, wishing he knew more to say to her. She gazed up at him, her blue eyes full of happiness. "I'll see you at ten, then?"  
He grinned happily. "Yeah. See you then." He gave her a parting smile, heading over to Ron and Harry. Ron looked at him, a mix of amusement and disgust on his face. "Why do you talk to her?" he asked, his voice carrying across the room loudly. "I mean, I get it if you feel sorry for her, but you know, you don't have to actually _talk _to her, Nev." He said, like he was explaining something simple to a child. He felt his anger rise, and turned to see if she had heard him. Sure enough, she was gone, and he caught the sight of her robes speeding up the girl's staircase. He turned back to Ron, his face filled with anger. "Listen Weasley, keep your fat mouth shut. What has she ever done to you? If you and the rest of these prejudiced wankers around here would just talk to her, you would see how great she is. She's a better person then any of you had time to be." He said through his teeth. Ron's eyes widened. "Whoa, sorry mate. Didn't you felt that way. Sorry." He muttered. He glared at him a moment before turning back around and sitting back down in the hair he had just vacated. "You know what? You can just go on without me. I've lost my appetite." He said in a disgusted tone. Ron shrugged and headed for the door, but Harry walked over and sat down in front of him. He looked at him. "What? You got something to say about her too?" he asked, the anger still in his voice. Harry shook his head. "No. I just….." he trailed off, looking embarrassed. "What?" Neville asked. Harry blushed slightly. "Well, I was just wondering if she ever told you how she got… how her face got like that?' he whispered. Neville scrutinized him for a moment. "The same way you got _yours_. Her family was attacked by a dark wizard. He killed her mother and scarred her for life" he said, watching Harry go pale. "What? Feel bad about treating her like nothing now? Acting like she isn't there? Looking at her like she's some kind of freak?" he spat. Harry looked at him, his eyes filled with shame. "We didn't know. We…. Well there's no excuse for it." He said lamely. He sat back in his chair, looking ashamed of himself. "And do you know why I talk to her every day? It's not cause I feel sorry for her. It's cause I want her to know she matters. Especially to me." He said, his voice thick. Harry looked at his friend and saw his eyes looked bright. "You all don't know how kind she is. How sweet. You know she deliberately comes to dinner late so you all won't have to look at her? She doesn't want to make any of you _uncomfortable_." He sneered. He stood and began pacing the room. "All she has ever wanted is to accepted. But you wouldn't know that _feels, _would you Harry?" he said, shaming him again. He did know how it felt. He also knew how it felt to finally _be_ accepted. Neville looked at him, pain in his eyes. "I want to tell her she wonderful. That she's the most beautiful girl I have ever knew. But how is she ever going to believe me with you all making her feel like dirt? Do you know how long I've like her? Two years Harry. Two. And in those two years, every time I try to build her up, one of you comes along and beats her back down. All I want to do is love her, but she won't let me. She thinks she's not good enough." He said, his voice cracking. He sat back down and put his head in his hands. Harry watched his friend, looking more dejected then he ever seen him. He stood up. "I'll fix it Neville. I promise. Just stay here. I'll be right back." He said, patting him on the shoulder, before heading out the portrait hole. Neville sat there, his mind wandering upstairs to the girl he secretly loved, and wondered what she was doing.

"Stupid idiot." She thought, sobbing into her pillow. "You should have known better. You know what you are to them." She rocked back and forth, trying to comfort herself, but it didn't work. She stood, wiping the tears from her eyes, and walked over to the window. She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to find solace. "He probably won't talk to you anymore." she thought sadly. "Not after Weasley embarrassed him like that." She sat down on the window seat, pulling her knees up to her chest. Why did she have to live like this? Hadn't she suffered enough? Even as the thought crossed her mind, she heard her father's voice in her head. "Self-pity is the worst kind of pity. There is always someone who has it worse than you do." She sighed shakily. She didn't want to think about someone who had it worse than she did. It made her heart ache for them. She turned to look outside. If she wasn't a freak she might could be happy. Maybe he might would even love her. She sobbed softly. She was going to miss their talks and the way he would smile at her softly. She took the little book back out of pocket, opening it to the middle. It had belonged to her mother. It was filled with different things, poems, flowers she had picked and tucked inside, drawings, and her thoughts. She found her favorite page and read it, tears still falling down her cheeks.

Life's Lessons

Love in Life

Is Hate in Disguise

And can't be Seen

Through Lovers eye's

Life as it was

Was never what it seemed

And all the Happiness you thought it brought

Was only in a Dream

To Love someone else

To give them your Heart

Was the first step to ripping

You whole Life apart

With all of this learned

And all this Time spent

I have not found the meaning

Of what True Love meant

She wiped her eyes. Out of all of the poems her mother had written, this was her favorite, because she completely understood it. She closed the book, holding it close to her heart. She wished her mother was here. Maybe she could tell her what to do. She felt like giving up, honestly. Neville had been her last chance at happiness, and now that was gone. She returned to her bed, laying down and closing the curtains, wanting to just fade away. Maybe then she wouldn't be in so much pain.

Neville felt horrible. He wanted to go up and check on her, but he couldn't. Those damn stairs wouldn't let him. He knew she was probably crying, which made him feel worse. He stood, walking over to the door that lead to the girl's dorm, leaning his head against it. If only Ron had kept his mouth shut. He might have told her today, while they were in the library. He knew she wouldn't have believed him at first, but he was willing to prove it to her. But now….. he had been worried about her for a while. She seemed even sadder lately, and he was afraid of what she might do. He felt his heart ache at the thought. He hit the door, wanting to run up and check on her. He flung it open. "Willow?" he yelled up the stone passageway. He could feel his eyes stinging, the tears threatening to come. He was trying to figure out a way to get to her when he heard people coming through the portrait hole. He turned and saw Harry, followed by all of his friends and half of the Gryffindor house. Hermione ran past him, up the stairs. "We here to apologize, Neville. I told you I would fix it, and I'm going to. We all are." He said, staring at his friend sadly.

Hermione knocked on the door, but there was silence. She opened it slowly, looking around inside. She saw Willow's bed curtains were drawn, and walked over. "Willow?" she called. Nothing. "Willow, please, talk to me. We all want you to come downstairs." She said, pleading. She grasped one of the curtains, pulling it back. Willow was laying on top of the covers, looking at the top of the canopy, her eyes red and puffy. Her hair had fallen out of her face, exposing it all. Hermione looked at her closely. This was the first time she had actually seen it. It was a bit of a shock at first, but actually, once you got over that, it really wasn't that bad. She looked down at the girl she had shared a room with for six years now, but had never even talked to, and felt ashamed of herself. All that fear. For what? She wasn't a monster. Just someone in need of a friend. She sat down on the edge of her bed and Willow turned to her, her eyes wide. She sat up, pulling her hair back into her face, but Hermione grabbed her wrist, stopping her. "No. No more hiding yourself, Willow. Your beautiful." she said, tears stinging her eyes. Willow looked at her, confused. She tucked her hair behind her ear, looking down. "You don't have to be nice to me Hermione. I mean, I appreciate it, but you shouldn't bother." She whispered, her eyes shimmering with tears. Hermione grabbed her around the shoulders, pulling her into a hug. "I'm sorry I've treated you so badly, Willow." She cried into her hair. Willow reached up and patted her on the back. "It's okay. I mean, I don't hate you. I know people don't like me." She whispered. This made Hermione cry even harder. "No! You should hate every one of us! We deserve worse." She told her, pulling back and looking into her eyes. Willow smiled a little. "I tried to hate all of you. But, it made me more miserable. So, I just forgave you all." She whispered. Hermione gave a watery laugh. "Then you're a better person than all of us combined." She said smiling. "We want you to come downstairs, Willow. I'm not the only one that wants to apologize. And Neville is worried sick about you." She said softly, pushing willow's hair out of her face. She looked confused. "But why? He didn't do anything to me. I should apologize to him. I embarrassed him in front of his friends." She whispered, her eyes filling again. "Willow, Neville cares about you. A lot, actually. He told Ron off, and then Harry." She told her, trying to make her understand. "It was Harry that came and got us. He told us what all Neville said about you. How wonderful you are. And how much he cares about you. And how cruel we've all been to you." She said, hanging her head. she stood, taking Willow's hand. "Apparently Neville's liked you for quite some time now." She told her, pulling her towards the door. Willow felt her heart flutter excitedly. Was this true? Did he care for her? But then a thought creeped into her head. What if this was just a new way for them to be cruel to her? She looked at Hermione, who was smiling encouragingly at her, and pulled her hand back. "You're lying." She whispered, "You all just want to get me down there and do something foul to me. I'm not falling for it. I might not say anything about how I'm treated, but I'm not going to willing go and be laughed at." She said in a low voice. She walked back across the room, crossing her arms. Why were they doing this? Had they seen her looking at Neville and guessed she liked him? She felt tears stinging her eyes, blinked them away. She wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. "I think the best thing for you to do, Hermione, is go back down stairs. I'm not going. You all can just go back to acting like I'm invisible." She muttered, sitting back down on her bed. Hermione stared at her a moment, She understood now what Harry said Neville had told him. That they were the reason she couldn't be happy. They had made her feel worthless, and if they tried to show her otherwise, she would think it was just a cruel joke they were playing. She went out the door, her heart heavy with shame and regret. She saw Neville waiting at the foot of the stairs and it broke her heart when she shook her head. "She doesn't believe me. She thinks were trying to trick her." she whispered. Neville glared at her, and then the rest of them. "You see what all of you have caused?" He asked them, his eyes full of fury. He turned back to Hermione.

"Is there any way I can get up there?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, the charm is just in case a boy tries to _walk _up the stairs." She said, looking towards Harry. He grinned and ran up to their dorm, huffing as he came back down, his Firebolt flung across his shoulders. He thrust it into Neville's hands, grinning. "Here. This isn't walking." He said, beaming. Neville looked at the broom in his hands. He hated flying. He couldn't even set on a broom without falling off, let alone _fly_ one. He looked up the stair case nervously. It wasn't very far, he supposed. He just had to make it to the second landing. He glanced back at Harry, his eyes anxious. "How do I…?" he motioned with the broom. Harry smiled. "It's easy, Nev. Just let it go, and then climb on." He told him. Neville did what he said, and straddled the broom, his toes touching the floor. Harry moved his hands into the right positions. "Alright, hold it here, and here. And straighten your back up. Keep a good, firm grip on the handle." Neville nodded, swiveling around to face the door way. He took a deep breath and ventured forward, slowly. It seemed to be working. He eased up the stairwell, watching for any signs of the charm, but there wasn't any. He got to the second landing, and touched his toes to the floor. The stairs gave a lurch, and then he heard a deep rumble of granite rubbing against granite, as the stairs gave way to form a slide. He pulled his feet back up, and grasped the broom with one hand, grabbing the door knob with the other. He pushed it open, easing inside. He tentivly touched his feet to the floor, waiting for a reaction, but nothing happened. He breathed a sigh of relief, and dismounted. He guessed her bed. It was the only one with all the curtains drawn. He walked over to it, his hands starting to sweat. With each step he felt more nervous. He reached the side and cleared his throat to get her attention. He heard her sigh. "I said I'm not coming down, Hermione. Just give it up. It's bad enough that I get treated like it don't exist, but when you start trying to tell me Neville likes me….well, that's just going too far." her voice cracked on the last sentence. He said nothing. Just stood there, his heart aching. "I said LEAVE! Just leave me be! It's already bad enough having to live with the fact that I could never have him, so I don't need you all rubbing it in!" she sobbed. He couldn't take it anymore. He reached for the curtain, pulling it open slowly. Willow was on her stomach, her face turned the other way. He sat down, rubbing her back softly. "Who said you could never have me?" he asked quietly. She scrambled over to look at him. "Neville!" she squeaked, eyeing him nervously. He leaned towards her and kissed her cheek, and then her scarred one. She blushed, and tried to cover her face with her hair, but he stopped her. "No. I don't want you covering up anymore. Okay?" he told her gently. She gazed up at him, nodding slowly. He sighed, and put his hand on top of hers. "Willow, I want to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago, but I was afraid. I didn't think you felt the same way." He smiled softly. "But I guess I was wrong. So here goes. I like you. A lot. I have since fourth year. " her eye's widened, and he saw a small smile on her lips. "I used to go to the library and watch you study. I would spend hours there, just watching you." He chuckled softly. "I guess I was sort of a stalker." She laughed softly. "I didn't want you to think I was some kind of nutter, so I started trying to talk to you ever time I could. I made excuses to do it. Asking for help with my homework, or just small talk between classes." He rubbed her scarred cheek with his thumb, making her look down and blush. " I think your beautiful Willow. No matter what you or anyone else says. And I do want you." She looked up in disbelief. "And I don't care what anyone else thinks. It's none of their business honestly. The only thing I care about is if you want me too." He said softly, searching her eyes. She felt her heart start to race. "You mean, I d-don't embarrass y-you?" she whispered. He shook his head, "No, you never have. So don't ever think that again." He said sternly. He squeezed her hand. " You should never feel that way. And I should have tried harder to help you." He leaned towards her, his eyes never leaving hers. "Can I kiss you?" he whispered. She nodded, and tilted her lips up to meet his. Slowly, wanting to take his time, he pressed his lips to hers. It was better than he thought it would be. He breathed in the smell of her hair, a mix of lavender and rosemary. He felt her sigh, her lips parting slightly, and he took it further, tasting her. She tentivly ran her hand through his hair, gently pulling him towards her. She poured everything into that kiss; every fear, every moment of torment, and every confusing, frustrating and fantastic emotion that she had ever felt. He eagerly responded, feeling two years of desire pour out of him. They broke apart, gasping for air. He grinned sheepishly. "Sorry about that." She smiled back, leaning in and kissing him again, this time more gently. "Why is everyone waiting on me downstairs?" she whispered, her eyes showing fear. He kissed the tip of her nose. "Because they want to apologize." She saw a flash of anger on his face.

"And I think they should."

He stood, pulling her up with him. She went stiff. "I don't want to see them." He shook his head. "No, you have to. You have to show them that they can't get to you." He kissed her again, trying to give her courage. "You can do this. Don't let them off so easily." He whispered. "I'll be with you the whole time. I promise." She looked unsure for a moment, but then finally nodded, letting him lead the way. He grabbed Harry's broom, and opened the door. she saw the stairs and giggled.

"What happened?"

He blushed. "They did that when I stood on them. I flew up here." He said, showing her the broom. "and when I got to the landing I tried to step down, but it turned into a slide." She went back in the dorm and grabbed two small pillows off her bed. She handed him one. "You can slide down on this." He went first, kissing her cheek swiftly before he slid down. She stood there a moment, thinking. She was still afraid. She couldn't help it. For six years all she had ever gotten from any of them was indifference and cruelty.

But, not from him.

That made her smile. He had kissed her and that had been the most magical thing that had ever happened to her. She brushed the cheek he had just kissed. If he was with her, she could do it. She sat down on her pillow and let go, sliding swiftly down. She tried to stifle a laugh, but couldn't. When she landed at the base of the steps, she was beaming. Neville grabbed her hand and pulled her up. He smiled, pushing her hair out of her face again. Someone gasped, and she spun around. They were all staring at her, their faces full of pity and fear. She hung her head, letting her hair cascade back down. Neville put an arm around her.

"You see? She can't even hold her head up around any of you." She turned, putting her head against his chest, feeling her eyes start to sting. "Willow?" she heard Harry say. She turned slightly. "Co-could you tell us how you got your s-scars?" She looked up at Neville, and he nodded, kissing her forehead. She took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves.

"Well," she began lifting her head slightly, "My father was once an Auror. He fought against Voldemort and his death eaters, putting as many of them in Azkaban that he could. One of them, a man by the name of Antonin Dolohov, was one of the many he had imprisoned. Dolohov's family began to threaten my father, but he did not relent. He stood by his decision, and asked the Wizengamot to give him the harshest punishment they could for his crimes. They put him in Azkaban, under high security. No visitors, ever. He was completely shut off from society, even from his fellow prisoners. Dolohov's brother, Dmitry, contacted my father. He threatened him, warning that if he did not have his brother released, he would take someone from him in trade. But my father would not give in. He held true, and Dolohov remained in Azkaban. But one day, while my father was working, my mother and I were home alone. I don't know the details, I was only two at the time. He killed my mother, leaving her broken on the floor for my father to find. And on me, he used the Fiendfyre Curse." She heard a gasp, but continued. "He controlled it to the tip of his wand, and set about burning my face with it. He only got half of it because my father came home and discovered he was there. My father killed him on the spot, but he was never the same. He retired from being an Auror, and from the Ministry." She looked up at Neville, and saw his eyes were filled with tears. "But," she said, turning to the rest of them, "I don't want your pity. This is just my cross to bear. I-it's made me who I am. A-and if that's n-not enough for any of you, then….. well….. you can j-just go to hell." She finished, he eyes bright. She pushed her hair out of her face and stared at them angrily. Neville put his arm around her, squeezing her slightly. "That's my girl." He whispered in her ear. Harry stepped forward and stuck out his hand. She took it slowly, still fearful. "I'm sorry. I hope that you can forgive me." He said, looking genuine. She nodded. When he stepped away, her classmates filed forward, one at a time, and apologized. When the last one moved away, she looked up at Neville. She was glad he had made her come down, glad that he knew how she felt now, and glad that he had kissed her. And she agreed now, that she deserved to be treated better and that they all owed her an apology for what they had done to her.

But not him.


End file.
